


Painting Dreams

by happycookiie



Category: Daughter of Smoke and Bone - Laini Taylor
Genre: Art, Continuation, Dreams, Epilogue, F/M, Fantasy, Love, One-Shot, Painting, Post-Final Book, Romance, Set after Dreams of Gods and Monsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 20:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4680758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happycookiie/pseuds/happycookiie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karou and Akiva are shaping their dream together, and living in the now, but Akiva still feels guilt over Brimstone, so he's trying to make it up to her. He's trying. "You should paint your dreams to make them come true." she said. So she does. (Post-Dreams of Gods and Monsters.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painting Dreams

"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams."

— _Eleanor Roosevelt_

**.**

**.**

She moves with the grace of a swan, and smiles like a sphinx. With porcelain pale skin, and eyes black as a bird's. Limbs long and graceful. And her hair drapes down her back and along her neck like a long curtain of expensive silk.  _Blue_ , of course. The finest of peacock blues. But it is that blue that marks her being, her existence.

Such is the beauty of she who is called simply, Karou.

She who entranced and captivated him twice over, in two lives and two worlds. Once as Madrigal of the Kirin under the twin moons in the sky of Eretz, chimaera and elegant; and again as Karou the girl with the hair the colour of the other world's night sky, the human girl from Earth, shrouded in mystery.

Of course little did he know at the time, that that human girl and the chimaera he'd fallen in love with once upon a time were one and the same.  _Are_ one and the same. But yet, also very different.

Akiva doesn't think he'll ever be over the wonder he feels from learning new things—new ways of living; magic— from Karou. As the Madrigal part of her sometimes bleeds through, along with the dream.  _Their_ dream.

A dream of seraphim and chimaera living in a world together in harmony. Living, loving, dreaming.

A dream that seems to come true more with every passing day.

It's slow, but they're making progress. They have different jobs to do—she resurrecting and rebuilding what remains of her people, and he fighting to control the power of  _sirithar_ and prevent the  _nithilam_ from tearing apart the veil. These jobs keep them from being constantly together, but they're making progress, so it's fine.

It's worth it.  _They're_ worth it.

Even if they're not always together, he and Karou are tied together by an invisible string, one that can't be cut easily. With them, the dream is possible. It's the beginning of crafting the dream into reality.

 _"We are the beginning",_ she'd said to him as Madrigal, when they lay in the Temple Of Ellai intertwined and smiling.

The beginning of something better.

A future. For Eretz. For chimaera, and for seraphim. Harmony.  _Peace_.

Akiva loves that word. Peace. Loves the way it sounds when spoken aloud or in his head. Or when Karou says it, her black eyes sharp and sparkling with determination, and  _hope_. Fierce determination in the face of Thiago, of Joram, and of Jael. She's a force, undefeated and powerful. And he loves her for it.

She flushes whenever he says it, cheeks going the colour of a summer rose, and she smiles down at her feet.  _I love you_ , he'd whisper, and she'd look at him through smoky lashes and smile that famous Karou smile.

Brimstone's daughter of smoke, and bone, and hope.  _His dream was their dream_ , she says, and he smiles. So he strives to make the dream a truth. For her, and for Brimstone. Because it's his fault the former resurrectionist is gone, and Karou was handed the hard burden of the task. Of tithing pain.

He tries to make sure she has a little of that as possible now. No pain for her, only pleasure. Like he once said.

But it's hard to do when he's not always there. Not always there with her in their home he made for them. A home they dreamed of, under the moons Nitid and Ellai, hands clasped and hearts soaring.

 _Dreamers_... Now they're  _doers_.

**.**

**.**

_A dream is like a painting_ , she said once.

You think it, plan it, then start. Sometimes it takes a while, whereas sometimes it takes no time at all. You paint it, decorate it, add detail. It takes hard work, and lots of dedication.

But once it's finished, it's worth it.

Madrigal liked to paint, he learned from the Naja woman chimaera, Issa. Young Karou drew and showed them to Brimstone, who  _liked_ them and sometimes even gave her a rare:  _Well done._ Akiva had learned that praise like that from Brimstone was praise indeed, and it hurts him even more to think the old demon is gone.

So he does what he can to try make it better. He collects things, and gives them to Karou. Things she likes. Things Brimstone would like her to like.

Paints. Pencils. Various other drawing utensils he's seen her use. Brought from Earth through the portal Eliza found, and delivered to Karou's unsuspecting hands.

He never understands why she's so surprised at the things he gives her. The things he  _does_ just for her. Like the time he travelled to Marrakesh, where they'd first met, and brought back a large set of exotic acrylic paints. She'd just stared at the box in his hands with wide eyes, and stared at him like a child on the Earth celebration, Christmas Day.

 _"Thank you,"_ she said it every time without fail, and accepted each gift joyously.

She doesn't have to thank him for any of the things he brings her. Not at all. If anything it's  _him_ who should be thanking  _her_. For dreaming with him, for loving him... For forgiving him.

**.**

**.**

It's that time again. That time he hates so much, but can't avoid because it's his duty. Like hers is to re-stitch the torn seams of chimaera life.

It's time to part. To Scarab and Nightingale.

They don't say goodbye. They hate doing that, because it brings bad omen, or so he says. But Karou doesn't argue.

They do try to ease the pain of parting though, ever so slightly. Not soul-crushing, intense, passionate farewells. But small little gestures. Like brushing of fingers, or taps on the shoulder, and sometimes kisses on his cheeks and brow from her. Touches that hold no sorrow or grief for separation, but promise and bliss for the reunion that was sure to come later.

_Saving the cake for later._

He'd laughed at that metaphor she'd said, but it's the most accurate thing to describe what it was he feels too.

Karou is rare, and delicate like a fine cake. Sweet and soft, crafted by a fine baker. This beautiful body of hers strung together with precious baby teeth by Brimstone, and tithed to life for Madrigal's soul to enter, her memories of that life in Loramendi and the nights with him hidden away in the wishbone, waiting to be broken.

 _Karou_. Hope. For chimaera, and for him.

Unlike at first, Akiva no longer hates these periods away from her. He misses her dearly, and the pull between them is strong, but he knows she's out there doing her part for their dream, so it's alright.

"Be safe," she whispers with his hands clasped in her own, the once agonising power of the hamsas on her palms excruciating. But now their power has been quelled by the magic mark on the back of his neck.

Of course he'll be safe. He'll keep himself and everyone else safe, then come back to her when the job is done. Back to their  _home_. With tables, and chairs, and sheets on the bed. And walls decorated with picture after picture made by her—some painted, some sketched.

He's glad she still draws. Still entertains the idea of art, that she'd worked towards for nearly eighteen years.

She can still enjoy that pleasantry.

And her favourite drawing subject, just so happens to be him. Their home is filled with painting after painting of him. Fiery eyes, flamed wings... He's her favourite thing to draw. And he doesn't have a problem with that, it just means he spends an awful lot of his time with her sitting as still as a statue. When there's other much more fun things he can think of doing instead.

But he doesn't complain.

He likes the way he's portrayed in her work. She makes him look otherworldly (which he supposed he is to her Earth self); ethereal, beautiful. She captures the flames from his wings so brilliantly too, so they seem to shine through the paper she glides the paintbrush along. He doesn't believe he looks as magnificent in real life as he does in her paintings. Because  _magnificent_ is certainly the right word for how he looks in them.

Unless she's teasing him, and drawing him badly on purpose, with horns poking out of the top of his head, and chicken wings in the place of his fiery ones.

 _"Be sure to make me look like_ that  _if you ever make a body for me."_ he joked, but then she'd flashed him that lazy Karou smile and he'd panicked just a little.

 _"I'll be sure to add chicken legs too,"_ was her witty reply, and if you looked at her you'd think she was joking. Which she probably  _was_ , but that's the thing with Karou...

You never quite know when she's being serious and when she's not.

She'd told Zuzana all about her true life in Brimstone's shop, and the chimaera she lived with through the forms of sketches. And with a flash of that lazy smile, you'd think she was joking.

But Karou doesn't always joke.

Hopefully she was that time.

**.**

**.**

This time when he comes back, she's not at the front with the others ready to meet him. She's somewhere else, doing only the godstars know what.

He flies in search of her, wings beating and showering sparks as they do, and he flies over the area they're building in Eretz.

 _New Loramendi_ —they're calling it. And Akiva can't help but think it sounds a bit unoriginal.

Adding the ' _New'_ in front of the fallen city's name had been Zuzana and Mik's idea, some Earth tradition. Humans must have been lazier than Akiva originally thought to just give cities the same name, but add a massive  _'New'_ on the front of it.

But it isn't that bad, because Karou is happy, as well as the others. And that's all that matters.

People need to be happy in their paradise.

He flies a little further before he spots a flash of blue on top of a hill neighbouring the developing city, and his wings take him there without fail. He lands softly behind where she sits, seemingly preoccupied with something so she doesn't appear to have noticed him. He walks to her side and looks down to see what she's doing, and this time she does notice him.

"Hello," she smiles, and he smiles back.

"Hello."

On the ground before her is a particularly large canvas, and there are paints and brushes sprawled out all around her. She's messy, covered with paint, hair tangled and pushed up with a paintbrush. But she's still so painfully beautiful.

The canvas isn't plain, he notices with interest. The evening sky laid before them is painted onto it, like she's grabbed a handful of the sky and just pressed it down onto the page. But the picture isn't just of sky either he sees, because there are two figures painted flying amongst the pink and orange clouds.

They're Ziri and Liraz.

He looks up to the sky and finds, to his surprise and delight, those very two flying high in the sky together. Chimaera and seraphim scouring the skies together, not trying to slit the other's throat, but  _enjoying_ the company. It makes Akiva's heart sing.

"Look," she says softly, even though he already is. "Can you believe it?"

"Believe what?" he asks.

"That all this can actually happen.  _Is_ happening, right before our very eyes. Both races, living together in harmony..."

" _Peace_." he finishes, and her smile widens.

"Peace." she agrees, and goes back to painting.

She adds even more detail to it, and Akiva is as awed as ever by her talent. How she can just capture a moment so perfectly, and preserve it more magically than any human camera ever could.

"Is that what made you want to paint this specific scene?"

She looks up at him again, her eyes black and shining in the evening glow. "I paint lots of things," she said, "Sad things, interesting things, and complicated things. But this time I'm drawing something because I want to. Because it's our dream. Right here in front of us."

_Our dream._

"I paint what I like, and I saw this and wanted to paint it. Because it's our dream come to life,  _finally_. And you should paint your dreams to make them come true. Or even more so in this case."

She lifted the hand that wasn't holding a brush, and pressed it to her heart, uncaring that it was mostly covered in paint that would stain her shirt further.

"We are the beginning," she said with a smile, "Isn't that what we said? And this here... This  _is_ that beginning. Chimaera, seraphim, together. We made all of this possible."

Akiva can feel his heart constricting, and he wants to reach out and pull her to him. She cocks her head to the side in that bird-like manner of hers, and her eyes seem to glitter.

"We're making our dream come true. This is  _our_ doing. And we didn't need a wish or tithe to make it happen. We made it on our own."

"We probably wouldn't have had a wish left anyway since you use them on things like hair colour and flight." he says dryly, but she knows it's a joke and laughs.

"And making people itch in inappropriate places." she adds with a sly smile.

Zuzana has told him  _that_ story, and he can't help but smile wider too.

"You and your wasteful wishes," he shakes his head, and she stares back down at the painting.

He doesn't remember when he sits down, but it doesn't matter because he's sitting on the edge of the hill with his wings blowing in the breeze, flames dancing and tiny embers drifting away into the air where Ziri and Liraz dance through the clouds.

He and Karou have a small eternity to build their dream. And as she sits painting it as best she can, he watches her with warmth fluttering in his chest.

"Karou." he loves saying her name, and she knows it.

She doesn't look up. Just carries on making strong brush strokes. But her smile does widen, he notices.

"Karou," he says it again, " _Thank you_."

And she does move then, only not to look at him.

Her head tilts and rests on his shoulder, her hand still painting away. And the once so stoic and expressionless Akiva finds his lips curling into yet another smile. But he doesn't care, because they're here. Not just dreaming their dream. But living it.

_This is that beginning._


End file.
